After the Glass of Wine...

I'm not sure if it's the wine, or maybe just because everyone else is asleep? I just know I am already feeling much better! Either way, I have a story to tell.

Last week (I'll never forget the day - Wednesday October 20, 2010) was the first time I did NOT want to go to personal training. It was five weeks exactly that I had been working out with Sergeant Shurts.  I was kind of stressed about work stuff, but mostly I was worked up about the scale. I  had not worked out the Friday, Sunday or Tuesday prior to that day. Monday's workout had been tough to get through and Tuesday was my first day off, since I had started exercise, that I did not even care that I didn't workout.  I get on the scale every single morning. (Save your breath, it's what I do, nothing you say will stop me). Because I get on the scale every morning, I am accustomed to seeing one of 3 things: 1 or 1.5 lbs up, same weight, 1.5 or 2 pounds down.  I know swelling, salt intake, what I ate the day before, what I ate 2 days before, the time of month, dehydration, (hold on...I'm about to talk real classy now) and needing to go #1 or #2 can affect my weight.

I usually don't get too worked up about a small gain. What I am NOT accustomed to, is a weight gain Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday!!! Holy Cow! I know I had cheated a bit, indulging in homemade white bread and alcoholic drinks over the weekend, but was it enough for a 4 pound gain over the next 4 days?! I was just sickened to the core that one weekend of being a bit less stringent would set me back 2 WEEKS of hard earned weight loss. I was truly beginning to doubt my hard work was paying off!

I was thinking about how much I didn't want to continue with the personal training as I drove to meet with Sergeant Shurts on that Wednesday morning.  The closer I got, the more I thought about turning around... Finally, I decided I owed it to myself to show up.  I didn't want to work out, but I thought maybe there would be SOMETHING she could tell me, something to change my frame of mind.

I walked in and Brenda was just packing up after her PT session with Eva. I looked at them both and then blurted out "Eva, we gotta do something! I didn't want to come today. I don't want to be here. I'm sick of this and I'm tired of working so hard. Please measure me. I know it's a week earlier than you wanted, but I need to see if my measurements have changed.

Eva says "Okay, let's do it." I look at Brenda and ask her to write down the numbers, so Eva can do the measuring. Eva hands her "the book" (this is the holy grail of Julie's weight loss, including past "training session accomplishments" and future training session plans, goals and methods of torture. As well as,  the measurements Eva took the morning of my first PT session 5 weeks prior).

She starts with my waist. She doesn't look at my previous measurements. She tells Brenda the number. Brenda says "That's down 2 inches!" She measures my hips. She tells Brenda the measurement. Brenda said "Are you sure? That can't be right. Do it again" I'm thinking "Oh my gosh it hasn't changed, or worse it's gone up!" Eva says "This is her hips, I had to have measured here." I said "Maybe it was here," moving the measuring tape down a bit, where I thought the measurement might me smaller. Eva said "No, that's too low, this is your hips." She was right, the tape measure went right around my hip bones.  I say "Okay, measure again," She measures the same spot again. She tells Brenda the same number. Brenda says "Holy Shit! You actually lost 8 1/4 inches off your hips!"

I didn't hear her right. I must not have heard her. She says it again. She is lying. I almost gave up. She has to be lying. People tell me I look like I've lost weight, my clothes are fitting different, but this can't be true! I think I said, "No" and "It can't be true" and "Are you sure" and "Your lying to me" and then I was shaking. My hands went to cover my face as the tears began pouring out. I was so shocked and happy and scared to believe it was true.  All I could do was cry and say "Oh my Gosh!" over and over again. I felt like someone had just told me I had won a Billion Dollars. Eva hugged me and Brenda hugged me and I was still so shocked. As Eva continued to measure me I stood crying and shaking. I remember them saying I had lost 4 1/2 inches off my booty but all the rest was a blur.  They wrote down everything and totaled it up for me. All in all I lost OVER 20 inches!!!

I woke up Wednesday morning dreading my Personal Training workout. I got on the scale and felt like I had already failed. I was ready to throw in the towel. I was ready to give up... ready to quit... resigned to a life of fat.  Never finding the "Thin" within myself.  An hour and a half later, I was ready to do anything Eva asked me to do. I was inspired, motivated and determined. Losing Inches and Gaining Momentum!

What a "Life Lesson" I learned last Wednesday morning!

Over and Over again, I have to be reminded:
Do not give up on yourself... Do not give up on your dreams...  Do not lose sight of your goals...

As always, Love the Life you Live!
Seriously!
-Julie Brush

Before the Glass of Wine...

My inner and outer thighs are already sore. Maybe it's actually the front and back of my thighs that hurt so bad? Ugh! It's just the whole dang thigh, from my knees to my hips, it's all aching. Not even three hours after my Tighter Assets strength class, and the pain is setting in. 

The flipping Dog is barking outside. Our windows are open, so I know every other person in the house can hear him barking as well, but no one gets up to get him! Kelsey is farting around (not doing homework, again!) and she thinks I'm the one who is mean because I have become impatient. The dog is barking and my irritation is at a level 9. My legs hurt so bad and I'm sitting here trying to decide if it's better to just get up and get the dog, or get up and tell my family I'm pissed at all of them for not doing it themselves. I decide the 2nd option is best, (it's closer and therefore less painful to gripe at the family). As I walk to the bedroom (my husband hears me coming) so he jumps up saying "I'll go get the dog." Seriously?! UGH! I do not tell my family I'm pissed. Instead I walk back to my office and say nothing. Kelsey is in the kitchen and she's humming. HUMMING incessantly while she does her homework. Why does this make me want to hurl her out the kitchen window? I say "Shush up Kelsey" and she says "well, Sssaaawwrreee" (that's a long drawn out snotty "sorry"). All is quiet for 8 seconds. Then her phone starts up. Ping...silence...ping...silence...ping. "Kelsey, quit texting and finish your homework!" She says "What? It's not my fault, THEY are texting ME." Ping... Ping... Ping... "Shut off your phone!" and again, I'm mean and grouchy. "Fine, I'm a mean ol' grouch. Shut it off!" A big huff of air, and I hear the phone shut down. 10 minutes later, she says she is too tired. She needs to go to sleep. "Is your homework done?" She says it's almost done. 

I want to stab myself in the eyeball with a fork! Why is this so difficult?! Why does normal everyday stuff have to be so freaking difficult? SERIOUSLY!  Just let the dog in the house. Pick up your toys. Shut the cabinet doors. Turn off lights when you leave the room! Stop fighting with your sister! Stop yelling "MOM!" from the other side of the house. Put your dishes in the sink. Why are there saltine crackers on the floor in front of the T.V.? You are laying right next to the cordless phone, why am I running across the house looking for it, (to answer it) and it is ringing RIGHT NEXT TO YOU! Seriously! You can't pick up the freaking phone?! Brush your teeth. Flush the toilet. Wait... a turd and no toilet paper!? I can't take this anymore! For Crying Out Loud... Wipe your rear end, flush the toilet and (I know this is pushing it) wash your hands! 

My kids are 7 and 12. My husband is 41. Is this too much to ask? Are my expectations out of line? Where did I go wrong? Really. Where did I go wrong?

I sat down to write on my blog about weight loss struggles and successes. My legs are killing me (Oh, sorry, had I mentioned that already?) and my family is driving me nuts!  I need Advil, Aspercreme (or Ben-Gay, whatever is in the house) and a large glass of wine. 

I hope this is PMS. If it's not PMS, then I am a cranky, grouchy, mean, irritable, and unhappy person. I'm going to have a glass of wine. I do have really great news to share. So, I will drink one glass of wine and write more in a bit...

Dance... Like No One is Watching - Part 2

The previous posting was about my embarrassing experience of dancing like no one is watching.  I didn't start writing with the expectation of telling that particular story. In fact,  it wasn't until after I started writing, that I'd even remembered the incident. Of course, then I'm giggling to myself and thinking, "Oh, I have to share this one!" So, I scrapped what I had started writing, and you got to read all about my "weeble wobble on acid" dance experience.

I'm sure many of you read these blog postings and think "I can't believe she is writing this stuff!" Some of you have told me in person, emailed me, or posted in the comments section, that you "think my blog is funny" or "it cracks me up" and you "truly enjoy reading it".  These are the people who take me, and my writing, for what it is. It's just me. The good, the bad and the ugly.  For this I am grateful.  You know who you are, and I thank you. 

I know there are also people who are just totally and completely uninterested in reading my blog.  And... this is totally fine, understandable and acceptable. To each his (or her) own. Right? Right! :) One of the reasons I made the "Seriously!? blog attendee" event, was to "weed out" those who are uninterested in receiving my emails. I also made a "private" facebook group, titled "Seriously?! blog post attendees," and only added friends who replied they would like to receive updates when I post new blogs. I honestly do not begrudge those who wish not to receive updates or read my blog.  I have a friend who "opted out" of receiving my blog updates, and when I ran into her this morning, (we were both grabbing a coffee) I gave her a hug (as I haven't seen her in awhile) we chatted, and quickly updated one another on our lives.  As I hopped back in my truck she said "Hey Julie, you're looking good, congrats on that." She isn't interested in my blog, (in fact the first time I emailed it to her, she replied "what the hell is this shit?!" - she is always cracking me up with her honesty) but she is a friend. She is more of a friend to me than the ones who accept my "Blog Event" and read my posts, but do not accept me, or what I am writing.

I am aware that while some people are laughing WITH me, others are laughing AT me.  You are thinking: "She is embarrassing herself" "It's so dramatic" "Who does she think she is?"  "Blogging about nothing" "doesn't she have anything better to do?" You consult with others, "Have you read Julie's Blog? What the hell is she thinking?" You have accepted updates and read my blog because it's an interesting source of gossip. Something to talk about... in the way you talk about a train wreck, or your neighbor who you THINK is having an affair, or the single mom on food stamps.  You stand in judgement of me. You know who you are. And... to you I say only this: 

Although I may seem crazy and foolish to you,  I Love the Life I Live.  I'm not perfect and I don't profess to be perfect. I sin. I ask for forgiveness. I live to learn and grow and express myself. I have this one life God gave me, and I'm trying like heck to get as much out of it as possible. I want to learn and teach and love and be inspired and inspire others. Stand in judgement of me if you will. I am who I am.

My writing is honest, and real. It can be raw, disorganized, clumsy, embarrassing, immature, rude, crude and totally socially unacceptable. I hope it can also be funny, inspiring, motivating and interesting.  My goal? I try to write like no one is reading.  Like a journal. Like no one reads this but me. It's the only way to truly be me...

And now I come full circle to "dancing like no one is watching".  It could be dancing, writing or singing.  Maybe it's Zumba or exercise or lifting weights? You are the most uninhibited, free, die hard, committed, and hard core when you do it like no one is watching. 

Think about it... Your home alone and you feel like you have to fart. Do you run to the bathroom, lock the door and pray no one hears?! NO! You lift your ass cheek... blow the fart... smell it... and think "Damn my ass stinks, what did I eat?!" 

You can go "all out". You can do what you feel. Say what you want. Sing loud and off key. Dance like an idiot. Love like you don't know pain or rejection. Love like you have never been hurt. Zumba your heart out, lift weights and exercise while making those disgusting "I'm taking a crap" kind of faces. If I lived my life worried about others watching me... worried about their opinions of me, I wouldn't have even made it through that first Zumba class. My point? Forget what "they" say. Forget the others, forget their opinion of you... When you want to be the best you can be... Be you.  

Live like you only have ONE life to live. Make it count. Seriously!  Make... It... Count...

Much love to my friends, family and those who read (and enjoy) my blogs! 

I B Me. U B You.

Love you all!

-Julie Brush

Dance... Like No One is Watching

I'll never forget one time when I was dancing like no one was watching... and got caught. Someone WAS watching. Yikes! 

My friend Suzanne and I are 19 or 20 and dancing in some club in West Port. This was back in the day before Power and Light District! I know we were underage, because once we were legal, we did NOT go to that bar anymore. I can't remember the name for sure, I'm thinking maybe it was called "Stanford's"? I know it was a bar with a comedy club upstairs. So, anyway... we were dancing and having a blast. As the night wore on (as I consumed more adult beverages) both my dancing ability and inhibitions lowered significantly. The Problem? My confidence level increased and I THOUGHT my dancing ability had increased! Yep, it was one of those nights. It starts out when you are yelling "I LOVE this song!" or "This is MY song!" to every song the DJ plays. Then, the ugly dude who looks like Screech, but dresses like Slater, (remember, "Saved by the Bell") buys me a drink and I think "Wow, I'm pretty awesome. It must be because I'm sooo cute and flirty and FUN!" Then Suzanne drags me to the bathroom and immediately says "Julie! That dude is UGLY! Did you forget the code names we use for ugly dudes?! Your Bambi and I'm Bimbo! Geez! Now that pubescent zit faced guy is gonna stalk us all night!" I then respond, "What? He had a zit? I thought he was cute." Then I look in the mirror... Hair all matted, sweaty, stuck to my face and neck. Mascara clumps looking like black boogers in my eyes. Eyeliner smeared, looks like I have 2 black eyes. Face all oily and in serious need of oil blotting paper and/or my cover girl powder compact. 

Thank goodness I had my hot pink lipstick in my pocket! I reapply the lipstick, rub my lips together and make "kiss lips" at myself in the mirror. What an improvement! (beer goggles must work when looking at ones self as well?) I say to Suzanne "Okay, like I'm totally not trying to be conceded or brag or anything, and I would never say this to anyone else, but because your my best friend and you totally get me... I feel like I can tell you... I think I TOTALLY look HOT tonight! Then I hear the toilet flush (shit, someone else was in the bathroom with us). This gal walks out of the stall, looks me up and down, laughs... and leaves the bathroom. Reality check? No. I'm too far gone for reality. I look at Suzi and say "Gross. She didn't wash her hands!"

As for the title of my blog post? Yeah, I'm getting there. Just give me time. I think I must take after my Dad. He is the KING of making a short story long, just ask my mom! I love you Dad... I'm just sayin...

So anyway, we head back out towards the dance floor. Screech has bought us another round and Suzanne heads into the next room (in search of an acceptable dance partner I guess, as if screech in his black, size XS tank top and rail thin noodle arms wasn't hot enough to dance with the both of us!) and the DJ plays "I want to F*** you like an animal" by Nine Inch Nails. Of course this (and every other song played that evening) is my "Favorite song ever" so I set down my drink and step on the dance floor. I'm dancing by myself. Screech must still be sober enough to know he can't dance? I don't care at this point... 

I'm dancing. Feeling the beat. The pounding of the music in my ears. The speakers are so loud I can feel the music in my chest, in my lungs. I close my eyes and just concentrate on the music. The feel of it. The sound beating against my eardrums. With my eyes closed, and the music so loud, I am not aware of my surroundings. I'm moving my body to the music. Dancing with the beat. I'm just feeling it and moving with it and...

Then Suzanne grabs my arm. "Julie, you look like a f***ing idiot! What the hell are you doing?" I'm like "Huh? I'm dancing." She says "open your eyeballs, and quit moving like that! You do NOT look cute, OR sexy, dancing that way!" 

3 minutes later Suzanne is driving us home. I say "So, my dancing.... that bad huh?" Suzanne says "Julie, I'm not sure what got into you. I just stopped you because you're my friend... and... well... people were starting to stare." I say "Shit." She says "Yeah, you looked like a Weeble Wobble on an acid trip." 

Looking back on that night makes me laugh. I cannot even imagine what I looked like out on that dance floor. Thankfully we didn't have cell phones with video recorders back then! That thought makes me cringe. Yikes!

But Seriously?... To tell you the truth... There is nothing else like dancing that way. Dancing like no one is watching...

NOTE: Part 2 of this blog will be posted tomorrow. It's after midnight and I'm too tired to type the rest of my thoughts on "Dancing like No One is Watching" (yeah, and you KNOW I'm gonna be tying this into working out, motivation, and weight loss) 

Thanks for reading my blog. Love you all. Seriously!

-Julie Brush

Re Posting: The Music Moved Me...

I have chosen to re post "The Music Moved Me..." as a reminder to myself and others about the power of music. "Ain't it funny how a melody can bring back a memory, take you to another place and time, completely change your state of mind." This is a quote from an old country song. I'm not sure who wrote it, who sang it or the song's title. I only know I have never forgotten that verse because it rings so true in my heart.  Music has recently become very important in my life as a motivation to workout, as well as, a distraction from the pain and muscle burn. Sergeant Shurts says to chase after the burn, but I'm just not there yet. I get what she's saying (the burn is good, means your making progress, working the muscle, building muscle tone, blah, blah, blah) but I just can't get excited about feeling that burning pain. What I like to do, is crank the music louder and drown out that damn burn. Beat it up. Run away from it and distract myself from it with loud upbeat (sometimes even angry) music. So, anyway... I wrote the following post back in January of 2010. I obviously didn't stick to the exercise routine I had started back then, but none the less, I think it's a good and motivating post. I AM sticking to my current exercise routine and music is still playing a huge part in my weight loss success! 
Thanks for reading,
Julie Brush


The music moved me...


So, I just recently started this whole "working out" thing. I have been on the treadmill almost every day for the last seven days. This is truly an amazing accomplishment for me! I don't think I have exercised (purposely) for more than two days in a row. Not in my entire life! The really crazy thing about this? The only reason I have finally been able to do it?

This is how it all went down:
I'm in a bad mood (I know, shocker right?). And It's not just a bad mood, it's like an angry and mad type of bad mood. I happen to be home alone on this particular evening, although I don't remember why. So, I'm pissed off, and not one damn family member is here for me to bitch at! It's not like I can even do anything productive in this state of mind! I am way too irritated to concentrate on important things, such as improving my latest bejeweled score, and way to pissy to be social and write "fun and flowery" quotes or comments on facebook. I decide to pick up the crap my kids have, once again, hauled down from the playroom into the kitchen. I head up to the playroom with an armload of toys when "What to my wondering eyes should appear, but a pile of dog shit and piss everywhere!" I dropped the toys on the couch and ran back downstairs, for fear of losing my supper. Ready to beat my two dogs senseless, (thank God they were outside and therefore could not be murdered in my heat of passion) I grab paper towels, rags, a trash bag and a bucket of bleach water. On my way back to the stairs, I see my ipod lying on the counter. I think to myself, "Hum, might as well listen to music while scrubbing the floor. Anything to make cleaning up dog shit a bit more pleasant." I grab the ipod, and along with all my other supplies, head back up to the playroom.


Finally, I am ready to commence scrubbing the floor with bleach water. I have picked up the poop and pee, and cannot wait to disinfect! (I know, how many time must I mention the dog shit in this blog?! I can't help it! I was freaking traumatized! I cannot stop myself). Anyway, this is when I put on my ipod. It's on shuffle, and the first few songs are okay. Ho hum, cleaning the floor, hate my life, gonna kill the dogs, what is taking Tom so long to get home, yadda, yadda, yadda...


Then I hear " Wake up in the morning feeling like P-Diddy"
I crank up the music...
"Grab my glasses, I'm out the door, I'm gonna hit the city"
take me, take me with you...
"Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack, cause when I leave for the night I ain't coming back."
Oh, I remember those days...


I feel my pace quicken. Scrubbing the floor faster, keeping beat with the music. Then I'm "dancing" with my hands. Making patterns on the floor as I see them in my head. I'm not even scrubbing the floor, not really... I mean, I am, but I'm not paying attention to what I'm doing. It's almost like I'm hypnotized. My sub-conscious is busy with the floors, but I am totally in another world. I'm on a dance floor. I'm young and thin. I'm back in college, the days when I could be as arrogant and care free as Ke$ha.


"Tik Tok on the clock, but the party don't stop."
I remember back in the day...


How I loved to dance! More than once, I was the first one out on the dance floor. If I was partial to the song, there was NO stopping me! I would beg my girlfriends to join me, but even if they resisted, I never cared about looking like a fool, I danced. I enjoyed the music, even when alone on the dance floor. So many friends (and boyfriends) of mine had to be fairly tipsy before they acquired the courage to come join me. Actually, I got hit on, many a time, by guys who started the conversation with "So, I noticed you out on the dance floor earlier"...


Suddenly, I am reminded of the freshman 15. Those infamous fifteen pounds (or more) college freshman girls are known to put on. Moms and Dads like to think it's because their little girls aren't eating the balanced meals they use to be provided at home. We all know, in truth, your precious baby girls are packing on the pounds drinking beer! Ha ha ha ha! So, why is it, I didn't gain the freshman 15?! Seriously?! Hello! I freaking danced my ass off. Literally. I danced and danced all night long! Every calorie of beer was balanced with LOTS of dancing!


Then it dawns on me. I didn't gain this weight because I got married, had kids and got comfortable with the life I live... I gained weight because I quit dancing and never replaced that Physical Activity with anything other than breast feeding for a few months, making meals and "running errands" in the car!


If music can make me forget I'm scrubbing floors...
If music can make me feel young and thin and alive again...
I wonder what would happen if I marched my happy, fat ass down to the treadmill and walked to the beat of the music?


So, I tried it. The result?! 6 of 7 days this week I was on the treadmill, and I'm loving life and feeling alive!


Never, ever under estimate the power of music to move your Fat Ass! :-)

Starvation Diet = Icky

Just to let you know, I HAVE actually been on a diet before. It was the "take diet pills and starve yourself " type of diet. You know, there is weight watchers, no carb, low carb, low fat, special K, Nutrisystem, diet center and my all time favorite, the grapefruit diet. None of them worked for me. Sometimes I'd add in a little exercise (everyday for ummm....2 days in a row, or something like that). The only thing that ever worked for me in the past was the diet pills and starve myself diet. I thought it was great! I mean to tell you, I saw quick results. I dropped about 20 pounds in 8 weeks. I remember laying in bed at night and thinking " Wow, I did really great today! The only things I ingested today were cigarettes, Diet Coke and Extra sugar free chewing gum. I'm so awesome!" Yeah. Are you thinking what I am thinking? I'm thinking 2 things. First of all, What a dumb ass I was. Second, hind site is 20/20 baby!

What I did not take into consideration 10 years ago, when I did this to myself, was:

#1) I can't take diet pills forever.

#2) The wedding dress I was losing weight for was NOT more important to me than the man I was marrying OR the wonderful family who raised me OR the wonderful family I was marrying into. Seriously! I am not even exaggerating when I say BRIDEZILLA! Oh my gosh I have to say it again...SERIOUSLY?! Have you ever tried to plan a wedding (or like, you know, be nice) when you haven't eaten for days at a time? Not eating is like PMS on crack! I am so lucky Tom even went through with marrying my crazy ass! And my mother? Well, she must be a saint to have put up with me. And, now that I think about it, my Dad was probably crying tears of JOY as he walked me down the aisle, thrilled to get me married off to some other man who would put up with me.

#3) Metabolism. What's that? You mean I have to eat and exercise to keep that metabolism thing working? Shit. I must have skipped class the day they taught that in Basic Nutrition 101 at K-State. Oops! Well crap. Bring on the poundage....

One of the most shocking things for me to accept is the amount of weight I have put on since my wedding in 2001. What a reality check this is for me. As I think about the weight gain, as I sit here at my desk and type this on my blog...it's as if I am slapped across the face. For a moment I am somber. The humor and the wise cracks leave me here alone with my thoughts and my keyboard. I feel like for me to be successful, I must be honest. Ugly and embarrassing, unable to cover it up with humor... The God's Honest truth is: I absolutely fucking hate the body I have been living in. I have let myself gain ONE HUNDRED and EIGHT POUNDS since the day I got married to the love of my life. That, my friend, is fucking disgusting!

Okay. Back to the fun stuff. Yikes! I feel like I need "Cootie Spray" now, to get rid of the yucky, sobering, reality thoughts. Yuck. That was tough. I hate being serious like that. Whew. Thankfully that is over with!

From my heaviest ever (documented) weight, I was down 20.4 pounds by the time I met Eva. Keep in mind... There was a lot of up and down fluctuating between my heaviest weight and the weight I was on September 13th 2010. I'll never forget September 13th. It was my first personal training session with Eva, and I had weighed myself that morning. She asked me to take my measurements, so I could see my progress. I told her my weight and asked if she could just take my measurements for me. I knew I could cheat if I did it myself.

She has not done my measurements again yet, although I'm thinking she'll do it soon. Next Wednesday is the 13th. One month baby! :-)

I weighed myself again this morning. I've dropped 5.6 pounds since September 13th. And, this time it was done the right way. Eating healthy foods (not on a diet, more like a lifestyle change) and lots of exercise. That is almost 1/4 of a pound a day. Almost a pound and a half a week.

It's not coming off as fast as it did on the starvation diet, but this time around I feel happy and healthy. Most importantly, I know it will stay off (and I'm doing it without the whole PMS on crack attitude, so I'm thinking it's much better on my family and my marriage).

Much love and lots of kisses to those of you who understand where I've been.

Also, to those who appreciate my candid, ugly and embarrassing honesty.

And most of all, to those of you who love me, and who support my blogs, and my journey to lose weight and get fit (the healthy way). I love you all and could never do this without you.

XOXO,

Julie Brush

Quotes

So, tonight in Zumba Class, we are doing these reverse sit up/crunch type things (yeah, I have no idea what they are really called, I just do what Eva and Allison are doing) and I feel the burn in my stomach muscles. Totally normal, right? So then, I start feeling this pain right under my ribs. It's like right under my bottom ribs, and I have never felt pain right there before. So, I say out loud (stupid me) "It's hurting so bad under my ribs! Oh my gosh is that OK? Is it supposed to hurt under my ribcage like that?!" Allison hears me say this, (because I am in the front row right behind her) and she says "Um, yea Julie... those are your abs." I just started laughing and looked at the gal behind me and said "Well, shit... I didn't even know I had muscles there."

Seriously! When people say "What a workout, I'm sore in places I didn't even know I had." That is not a joke! I always thought that was drama, exaggeration, joking around... No it is seriously freaking true! It's just so funny to me that I really was worried. Like I was thinking "Oh, I better say something, I might be doing something wrong because this is hurting under my ribs!"

Another time, I was in Zumba (right behind Allison again) and my feet were going numb! I'm jumping and dancing and just "Zumba-ing" my heart out when I notice the numbness and tingling in both feet. I slow down my pace, and it is not going away! I'm thinking..."Okay, calm down...I don't remember numb feet being a sign of a heart attack or a stroke..." My mind is racing and I catch Allison's eye. I say to her, "Something is wrong with my feet. They are going numb!" As I say this I start taking my shoes off, (so I can look at my feet) and Allison says "Your shoes are probably tied too tight." Ha Ha Ha! What a ding dong I am! Duh, they were brand new shoes and just tied too tight. The second I got them off, my feet felt totally normal again! Who does that!? I totally freaked out over nothing... More than once!

One thing I have recently learned for sure : Working out, working hard, working on changing your body... It's not for wimps! I'm not saying this because I feel like I'm "all that and a bag of chips." I'm saying this because I want everyone who reads this to know how even a big baby wimp like me can start LEARNING to become strong. If you have ever thought of trying to incorporate exercise into your lifestyle, but been afraid... I want you to know, I too was (still am) afraid! Every time Eva - a.k.a. Sergeant Shurts - asks (makes) me do something new, or makes me do "8 more reps, Julie" I am afraid of the pain, afraid I can't do it. I mean, SERIOUSLY?! At 35, I have just recently learned my abs go all the way up to my freaking ribcage! I am more clueless than ANYONE I go to those Zumba or Strength Classes with. But...who cares? I do what I can, and I learn as I go. (and I think, and say, and do, and hear a few funny/crazy things along the way).

Some things said that I don't want to forget:

Me: Oh Shit, (groaning) it hurts, I can't, (more groaning)

Julie Gates: You had a kid, if you've given birth, you can do 8 more leg lifts!

Me: (Gagging)

Brenda: (Laughing)

Sergeant Shurts: You better not puke! You'll be the one who has to clean it up!

Me: Every time she makes us do this...I'm afraid I'm gonna toot.

Sergeant Shurts: What did she say?

The Whole Class: She's afraid she is gonna TOOT!

Sergeant Shurts: Frog Legs...Put your feet together and lay on the ball like this...Squeeze, Release, Squeeze, Release....

Me: (I'm only thinking this, not saying it) "I can't believe I'm doing this in public. I totally feel like I am humping this exercise ball...Man my ass hurts! No wonder Tom has such a great butt."

Sergeant Shurts: When you do this exercise, if you feel it start to burn...

Me: Then what? I feel it burn, what do I do?!

Sergeant Shurts: (laughing) You live right through it!

To Eva (Sergeant Shurts), Allison, and all the gals who attend Beloit, Smith Center or Osborne Zumba classes with me... Thanks for the laughs! It's been great fun dancing (a.k.a. throwing this big butt around) and sweating like a fat baby in your presence! See ya'll next week!

Lots of Love to you all!

-Julie Brush

SERIOUSLY?!

I just now stumbled upon this video, and I had to post it! I love it! Seriously! - Julie Brush

Lohgan is away at Pittsburg State University

Lohgan,

I am remembering the day I met you. I can relive in my mind that warm summer evening, as I sat on the couch and you sat in the big leather chair. You were so small in that big chair, telling me about starting the third grade, American Girl Dolls, Beanie Babies and your friends Rachel and Jodi. You took me by the hand and led me down the hall to show me your bedroom and your Beanie Baby collection. You were so confident and carefree. A sweet and innocent little girl full of life and love.

You were (and still are) SUCH a Daddy's Girl. I fell so in love with you and your Dad, watching the two of you together. I was in the kitchen one evening, cooking supper (mostly trying to impress your Dad) when I looked out the window and noticed you trying, unsuccessfully, to get a basketball through the net. Tom must have noticed this as well, because he stopped mowing the lawn and went over to you. He stood under the basketball goal, and after watching you try several more times make a basket, he finally just picked you up and held you up in the air, close to the goal. You easily tossed the ball through the net and grinned from ear to ear. After a chuckle and a high five, he went back to mowing the lawn.

I am smiling, but tears stream down my face as I remember these things. I smile because you have brought so much joy and happiness to my life. I cry because I miss your beautiful face and your presence in my home.

I am so proud of the young woman you have become. I look forward to hearing about all your adventures and success (and yes, even your mishaps or failures) at Pittsburg State University. Congrats to you for choosing to pursue a college degree! Although I often wish you were back here in Downs with us, I know you are where you need to be, working to accomplish the goals you have set for yourself and your future. I can't seem to tell you enough, I'm proud of you!

I miss you Lohgan, and I love you so very much.

-Julie

Sergeant Shurts Part 2

I met Eva (and Allison - her sidekick) at the first Zumba class she taught at the Osborne Wellness Center. I had heard people talk of Zumba before, and was curious to see what it was all about.

This first class happen to be scheduled on a Friday night. I was tired and not really feeling like going. It was also the first home Lakeside High football game and Brush Art was hosting the tailgate. I knew I should go, but everyone would be there, I'd have to go see people and talk...and be nice. So, I'm standing in my kitchen thinking to myself..."I'm tired and I look like shit and I'm fat. None of my clothes fit right, the 2 items of clothing that do fit (purchased from the 'FAT WOMEN ARE US' store) are dirty, so I have nothing decent to wear to the game. I don't effing want to go looking like shit, and smile, and wave, and be happy, and bullshit with everyone. Eeewww! Especially not the cute thin people. Seriously!? Then what are you going to do Julie!? Sit at home and play computer games on face book and drink beer and feel sorry for myself cause I'm feeling fat and ugly? Shit!" So, I decided I could go to Zumba looking fat and ugly. Besides, I wouldn't know anyone there anyway...

So I get there a little late (shocker right? I know!) and I walk in and see the place is FULL. Shit! I scan the room, and I am seriously the fattest girl in attendance. Double Shit! I look over at the front of the class and see the instructor...Triple Shit! Seriously!? I say to self, "Self, you are in the wrong place, AND someone needs to sign that instructor bitch up for a 'cake of the week' club or something!" Who looks like that!? SERIOUSLY?! She is thin, but not skinny. She is tone and muscular, but not that body builder man-ish type of muscular. She is smiling and bouncing around and acting like she is actually enjoying this shit. WTF?

I need to leave this place...STAT! Then this other girl, (cute, young and fit - PUKE!) catches my eye (dammit, I'm caught) and I just look at her and say "What do I do?" She looks over at the dance floor as if she looking for a place to put me among the others. Think fast Julie! "Umm, I have to use the restroom." So she takes me to the bathroom and I think "Holy Crap, I'm gonna have to stay here and do this Zumba stuff."

I find a place, in the back and off to the side, where I do NOT have to look at myself in the mirror. Okay Julie, you are here, make the best of it. I enjoyed Zumba. The music wasn't bad and many of the moves are actually kind of fun. I looked like a fool, but once I got over myself, (so, maybe they aren't all staring at me. Maybe they ARE more concerned with themselves and you know...breathing, than they are with my fat ass flopping all over the place) I liked it. Well, more than liking Zumba, I liked that I was doing something. Anything to lose weight and start feeling better about myself.

When class was over I was feeling a mixture of "So glad I came and did this" and "My shins hurt so damn bad, I can't keep up with these people, I'm so outta shape, what is WRONG with me, I need help". Yeah, I was pretty discouraged to say the least. So, I walked up to the instructor (because I needed her address for that 'cake of the week' club I was planning to enroll her in) and she seemed really nice. Shit! I was planning on hating her. I can't hate her if she's pretty AND nice (because that would make me the bitch, and I don't like that). I learned her name was Eva and the other cute gal with her is Allison. I asked about my shin's (probably they are shin splints they say) and what can I do about them? I felt so stupid because I actually started to tear up, they really hurt, but mostly I think it was the frustration of trying to lose weight and get fit on my own, AND not seeing results, AND being in pain. Eva and I exchange full names (you know, gonna be face book friends now) and I buy Mona vie Active to help with my shin splints (which by the way works really well!) By that evening Eva has sent me a friend request.

Saturday I looked over her profile page and saw she does personal training. Holy Moly Batman! She does personal training!? Seriously!? Where do I sign up for that!? I instantly sent her a face book message and she replied right away. We set everything up for me to start right away, on MONDAY. I went to her Beloit Zumba on Sunday evening and confirmed that I would be there, 10:00 a.m. to train.

If only I could find the words to describe the fear I felt during that 30 minute drive to meet her Monday morning. I think the fear was because I knew I was really, actually going to commit to this. And that was freaking scary!

So, I survived. And I set up appointments for the next 2 weeks. Twice a week personal training. I also attended her Zumba and Tighter Assets (strength) classes. I'm not gonna lie or blow smoke up your ass, my muscles were tired and sore. It sucked mostly, but Eva was so great, it was good sometimes too. She pushes me, and I hate when she says "8 more reps Julie...You can do it!" I want to tell her where to shove those reps! But, then I do them. And when it's done, I feel awesome. I would attend those Zumba and strength classes, and many times I was the fattest girl there, I was (and still am) the slowest, the one who can't lift as much or do as many reps. I get tired and out of breath before the others...but, I decided I don't care. I'm there for me, not them. So I keep on keeping on. I know someday I won't be the biggest, slowest and most out of breath, I can already see and feel my body changing. I can't tell you I love every day of this, but I can tell you I'm committed.

I feel like I have to share an email (actually she left this in the comment section under the "My T-Shirt" Blog I posted). Sergeant Shurts sent me the following comment (dated Sept. 21) 11 days into my training. I think it gives a pretty fair and realistic account of her personality, as well as the good, the bad, and the ugly, of my personal journey to weight loss and fitness.

Off to a GREAT start Julie!! What an exciting journey we have ahead of us..picture: skipping through colorful meadows holding hands, skirts billowing in the breeze...lol! NOT!!!! More realistic: no makeup, sweat dripping in places best left unseen, teeth clenched, looking slightly constipated. That's better:) I promise to you to push you further than you want to go but as far as I know you can go. I promise to inspire you...whether through avenues of persuasion, bribery and/or threats of bodily harm. I promise to make you hurt and sweat & curse the day I was born. These things will make me smile because I know they are good for you & I know you will thank me...once the burn subsides. I see wonderful potential and a fierce drive in your eyes that got my attention the day we met. Was it 11 days ago or 11 yrs ago?? Who knows?! and this is what I will remember when (not if) you look at me and tell me you want to give up. I'll know you don't mean it & I will probably make you do a BUNCH of squats as punishment but you'll smile when I count down those last...few...reps. So rest well my friend (aka Victim) for we meet again tomorrow:) Love,Sergeant Shurts

Sergeant Shurts

Quite a few people have asked me, either in person or as a face book message, "Who is this Sergeant Shurts you speak of ?" So I have decided to devote today's blog to telling you a bit about Eva Shurts, my opinion/random thoughts about her, and my experience with her as my personal trainer to this point.

First of all, I am NOT paying a huge sum of money for her to train me. Although, the day I met Eva, I was so desperate for help, so scared of failure, so determined to change my body, that I would have signed up for personal training with her for 3 or 4 times the amount of money she charges me! Of course, that would have meant I'd have had to lie, beg, cheat or steal to get the money to pay for it... BUT, God's Honest Truth... I would have considered it. I am telling you, that is how bad I want/need the help to change my body! Now, back to the money. If you're like me, you are thinking "So, how much is it Julie?!" Well...she charges me per 45 minute session, and I have 2 or 3 sessions with her per week. I don't feel comfortable telling you the exact amount she charges me, as I have not seen an official price sheet (we conversed money matters through face book messages) and, I have not asked her permission to post her personal training prices. I will tell you this: She is very inexpensive, her current rate for me is less than $25.00 per 45 minutes! This is amazing for 45 minutes of one on one, totally personalized training. If you've never priced personal training before, you should know I have seen prices from $30.00 to over $100.00 per hour.

A few more details: Eva has a "Tighter Assets" class Monday and Thursday evenings 5:00 to 6:00 and a "Zumba" class Sunday evenings 5:15 to 6:00. Starting Sunday, September 26, she will also be offering a "Fitness for Kids" class at 6:05. All 4 of these are in Beloit at Eva's place of Business, "Body Defined by Eva" located right next door to The Closet on Mill Street. She charges $20 per month for attending 1 class per week. If you'd like to attend 2 classes per week is $26.00 per month. If you happen to be taking personal training sessions from Eva as well, she charges only $26.00 per month to attend an unlimited number of her classes.

In addition to the above mentioned classes, She has a Wednesday 5:15 Zumba class in Smith Center (Nazarene Church), a Wednesday 7:15 Zumba class in Jewell (Community Center), and a Sunday 3:30 Zumba class in Osborne (Osborne Wellness Center/Dance Academy).

Ummmm, Yeah... I'm really tired and it's really late so I'm gonna stop writing now. I'll post this blog and write more tomorrow. I promise my next blog will be much more fun and interesting, as I'll be writing my opinion/random thoughts about Eva, and my experience with her as my personal trainer to this point.

Seriously?! Me, (whose theme song is "Little in the Middle, but she got Much Back") and a personal trainer, (named Sergeant Shurts) ...It's totally going to be a crack up. You know I won't be holding anything back! Seriously!

Love to you all!

-Julie (Trunk full of Junk) Brush

I found my BLOG!

WaHoo! I found my blog! You may ask..."How did you lose your blog, Julie?" and I would answer "Seriously?! Somedays I can't even find my butt with both hands, (and it's a big butt) how am I supposed to keep track of one little blog out in cyberspace?" It's just too many passwords to remember, and I have 3 email addresses. Then there is Facebook and Twitter and Myspace and Linked and blah, blah, blah...
So, anyway... I got my blog back! I'm looking forward to writing and sharing my random thoughts once more.

Hopefully I can have something written by the end of the week. Love to you all!

My T-Shirt

I'm immature, unorganized, lazy and loud. But I'm Fun!

I have a T-Shirt with the above statement written across the front. My mother gave it to me as a gift for Christmas a few years back. I laughed when I opened the gift, knowing it's mostly true. I think Tom received a shirt that same year, it said something about Rub Buddha's Belly? Oh, and who could forget the tighty whitey's he got with "I Love To Fart" printed neatly across the behind?! Fun times and crazy gifts are the norm in my family. It's one of the many reasons I love them so much.

So anyway, I liked the shirt. I thought it was funny and wore it often. I wore it around the house, to sleep in, to plant flowers and to paint Kelsey's room. I never did wear it in public. I guess, what it says about me, isn't something I was proud of. You know how when something is a little too true, it's a little more funny to everyone else (and more humbling to you)?

I actually had this shirt on (planning to paint Lohgan's room) when I fell and broke my ankle 4 years ago. Dr. Marozas laughed her head off when she read my shirt. After putting a cast on my leg, she took a picture of me in that damn Tee Shirt. She must know me pretty well?

So, I saw that shirt again the other day and thought: Okay, immature is true sometimes. I mean, usually when I'm clowning around with my family or friends I'm being pretty immature. But, that's fun times and I love making people laugh (even if it's at my own expense) so, who cares!?

Unorganized? Ugh! Hate that word. I've been unorganized since the day I was born. I have to work hard every day just to be somewhat organized. It's not something that comes natural or easy for me. I can do it for a day or even a week, then I fail. What I've learned as an adult is to just try like hell every single day. Seriously, I'm freaking ADHD. Didn't I recently lose my own BLOG?! So, unorganized? Yeah, I've accepted it and I work on it....let's move on!

Loud? Seriously!? Have you met me? Umm, yeah... this would be a big "Hells yeah!" Of course I'm calm and quiet at times (when it's totally required of me) but mostly I'm loud. I know this will completely shock you, but I may even be a bit "attention-seeking" at times. (Shhh, don't tell anyone...I keep saying I have NO CLUE where Sarah gets this awful behavior!)

Lazy? Yuck. This one is the killer. I can definitely argue this one both ways. As the ADHD student in elementary school, I was often described as "Lazy" by the teachers. " Not completing assignments, not staying on task. " As I grew older, the statements changed. "Julie is skipping school, she is not driven to succeed, she has no real goals, no motivation in school." I must say this sounds like a lazy, delinquent kid to me! Then, towards the end of my Junior year in high school, one teacher told my mom, "I just can't see how Julie will graduate from high school." This particular teacher was not trying to be mean or hurtful, I think she was mearly stating what she saw as an obvious fact. It was, to put it mildly, a "reality check".

When my mother walked through my bedroom door that evening, (Okay, let's be honest. My mom actually pushed the door only part of the way open - as much as possible with clothes and trash wedged between my door and the wall - and remained in the hallway, for she had a very legitimate fear of tripping over something in my room, thus causing bodily harm or possibly even death - Seriously! Have you seen the show "Hoarders"? Yeah, it was that bad. Can you say Lazy?) as she stood in the hallway after parent/teacher conferences she seemed resigned to the fact that I would fail. She had tears in her eyes. No anger, no yelling or grounding me this time. It was like I had "won". I have proven I didn't care, wouldn't try to succeed in school. There was nothing more she could do, so she was painfully and tearfully accepting the reality of my failure.

AND THIS PISSED ME OFF!!! My mother was giving up on me?! This was not going to happen! I was scared, and I decided then and there I WAS going to graduate high school. I won't tell you all the hairy details, but I transferred schools, worked hard, went to my regular classes and took night classes my whole senior year, and I graduated. As my Dad would say, "You pulled that one out of your ass Julie!" I tell you this as just one example of turning "Lazy" into "Driven". Yes, I can be Lazy. I can be Driven, Motivated and Successful as well.

I guess that's why "Lazy" on that T-Shirt is the word that bothers me so much. It has been so true AND so false in my life.

As I begin my second week with my personal trainer, Eva Shurts (Or, as I call her, Sergeant Shurts) my body is tired and my muscles are sore. I can't go as long, or as fast, or as hard, as the others...but I am going. At times, I want to give up on myself, resign to a life of being overweight and unfit. It would be easier, and...it would also be Lazy. I'm going to chose Driven, Motivated and Successful this time around. Lazy will be "false" in my life once again. Unfortunately, I can't "pull it out of my ass" but I know I can do it. I am scared, but I have decided I AM going to be fit. Seriously! I think I'll wear that T-Shirt my next training session. When I look in the mirror and see "Lazy" it'll motivate me to be just the opposite.

Here's to Less Lazy and More Motivation!

Random Thoughts by Julie Brush

Overwhelmed... In A Good Way

The following is an email I received today from a friend. I have removed all identifying names and places, to protect the privacy of my friend, as I didn't ask her permission to post this.

Hey! I have been catching up on your blogs this morning, as I have been busy and haven't had a lot of time to do that lately. I just wanted to tell you how great I think you are. While reading, I laughed and cried, thinking of all the good and not always good times we have had. Our xxxxx discussion xxxxxxxxxx really helped me. I was reminded of how honest you are, not being afraid to tell people your story, even if it isn't always pretty. I also want perfection, feeling overwhelmed if I can't be perfect. I get myself in too deep, completely overwhelming myself, and then I give up. I admire your honesty and I love your beauty. I count you among my most genuine and real friends. You mean a lot to me and I wanted to tell you this. You're not perfect, neither am I, but together, we are some pretty bad bitches. Please know that you can count on me if you ever need anything. Take care of your beautiful face. Love you. - xxxxxxxx

In living a life, whereas in the past, I have been "chewed up and spit out" for trusting others with the real me, it is refreshing to know that someone not only benefitted from my honesty, but admires me for it as well. I have often left myself open and vulnerable, and consequently, my words and/or actions were twisted into something totally untrue. Thank you, my friend, for truly knowing me and still loving me. Thank you for taking my words as I meant them, not twisting them or hurting me with them. I feel like, at 34 years of age, I can finally let go (if only just a little bit) of the bullshit that's haunted me since my adolescence. Maybe, vulnerability and genuine, honest openness is actually a gift?

I have other blogs, still in "draft" mode, that I have yet to finish or publish, due to this fear of what others might think or say about them. Blogs, short stories and a novel, fiction and non-fiction, started but never shared because of this fear. Right now, I'm thinking "huh, maybe I could share those stories".

If you believe in somebody, if you love them or admire them, even just a little bit, tell them. It could mean the world to them. It could change them.

It overwhelmed me... In a good way.

oops!

Dang it! Hate when that happens!

Tom leaves town Sunday evening. Traveling for business. Kids are finally in bed asleep. Peace and quiet at last! I open a bottle of wine and pour myself a glass. I'm playing bejeweled on facebook. I am relaxed. I call my girlfriend to chat. Her kids are also asleep! Yeah! I tell her I'm having a glass of wine, and she decides to join me. So now we are chatting away, drinking wine...

An hour later...

We hang up the phone and I notice my bottle of wine is almost all gone! Hum, how did that happen? Oh, and I'm really missing my husband right now. Gee, I think right now, after drinking almost a whole bottle of wine, would be a really great time to write him a love letter... AND POST IT FOR THE WORLD TO SEE, ON MY BLOG!!!!

Monday morning...

Oh shit! What the *$#@&* was I thinking? Oops! Hate when that happens...

It's too late to retract it. Maybe he won't see it? Wishful Thinking. Ugh!

I Love You, Tom

I love you Tom.

With all my heart and all my soul, I love you, Tom Brush.

Sometimes you piss me off... at times I feel neglected and ignored. But isn't that what a women does? We just "feel" and it is you, the man, who does the thinking. You are logical, and I am the emotional one. As mad as your logic makes me... as much as your methodical ways upset me, and that comment from the pastor resounds in my mind..."Does he know what love is? Is he capable of loving me?" I still know, in my heart, my life would not be complete, had I not met you. A thousand times, over and over again, it is you I would marry. I respect you. I look up to you. I admire you. Your smile is my inspiration. The way you get embarrassed when I tell you these things, makes me love you all the more. It makes me want to smother you in my warm thoughts, and fill you up with my emotion. With my love for you. When I clean the house, do your laundry, make your supper and help raise our children, I do it for you and I. Because I love you. I love our children, and our family, and the home you work so hard to provide for us. You are good and strong and big-hearted. I am not perfect. I have not always been the perfect wife and mother. But, I do love you. And, it is my love for you and our family that keeps me going. I am proud of you Tom. Proud to be your wife, and the mother of your children. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be the person I am. Your wife... your friend... your partner in life. I know, in my heart, God brought us together. You and I, we have this one life to live here on earth. Thank you baby, for choosing me, to live your life with. Happy (early) Valentines Day. I love you. I love you. I love you.

-Julie

What's Your Motivation?

When I was working for the American Heart Association, (about 6 years ago) I was sent to Seattle Washington to give a presentation on recruitment. My job with the AHA was to raise money through the Jump Rope and Hoops for Heart Campaigns. Basically, this was a sales job. It was a "do-good" job as well, as the money was raised for a good cause, but I'm not gonna lie, you had to hit numbers (dollar goals set for your territory by your manager) or your ass was fired. So anyway, I was asked to do this speech because I was ranked number one in my division and number three in the nation for recruiting new schools to participate in the Jump and Hoops events. The team in Seattle? Their whole division was ranked in the bottom quarter of the nation.

I'm all honored and excited to give this speech/presentation, so I spend like two freaking weeks making charts, graphs and a slide show in preparation. I have details about what I did, what I said, where I went, when I went, who I talked to and why. I mean to tell you, the only thing I didn't have in my presentation was a list of all the clean, and therefore acceptable, places to stop for a bathroom break in Western Kansas. Seriously! I was super prepared for this event.

So I'm in Seattle, sitting in the hotel convention room. We are all sitting around these big round tables, and I am so thankful for the long tablecloth as I discreetly wipe my sweaty hands on this tablecloth, for like the hundredth time. They introduce me. The Seattle manager tells his "team members" of my accomplishments and I walk to the podium. I am seriously, physically shaking, as I turn to face 50 expectant faces. I start with the slide show, and begin to spew forth all this knowledge I have acquired through my experiences in the field. Not but 5 minutes into my presentation, an arm goes up. Question. "But Julie, what if you approached that PE teacher last year, and they said no, do you ask them again?" Umm, Yes. (I'm thinking...duh!) Another raised hand. "But what about if the principal said no to the event last year, and you know the same principal is at that school?" Well, you go there again, ask a lot of questions to find out what the objections are, and overcome the objections. "But, what if the principal won't make an appointment to meet with me? Or, what about if the principal or PE teacher won't return my phone calls?" Hum, I guess I don't make appointments or phone calls, I just show up and go the school's front office. They give me a pass, and I head over to the principal's office or the gym.

I keep getting these questions, which are really just excuses, to not do what we have all been taught to do. These people know basic sales techniques, or they wouldn't have been hired! I begin to feel like an asshole answering these questions. I look over at the "team manager" in shock. He just smiles at me, like he is encouraging me to continue on, answering questions and imparting knowledge on his team. Then it hits me. This division, this manager, these people are just comfortable with keeping the status quo. They all have excuses for why they can't do better. Why they can't get more school's signed on. This manager dude seriously just took these excuses from his team, as his excuse for failure to raise more money and hit goal.

I abandon my slide show and I ask this question. "Do you really want to sign on more schools?" They nod their heads. I begin to walk around the room. I'm pissed by the apparent lack of motivation. I am no longer nervous to give my presentation, I only feel an overwhelming desire to shake these people. I ask each table to tell me why they work for the American Heart Association. I get various answers but nothing with the passion I'm looking for. This is when I begin to get animated. As I continue walking the room I look at these people in their eyes. My voice a bit raised, I tell them, "You have to want to succeed!" "Everyday you have to think about why you do your job." "You have to know, failure is not an option." "You must relate what you do for a living, to actually saving lives." I briefly mention the research that leads to new medications, technology, education, healthier lives and prevention of heart disease. I tell them none of this can be done without the money we raise. I tell them, "You have to want this, like you want to save your own child's life. I dare any of you, to give me an excuse for not getting a new school signed on, knowing money raised from that event could help save your child's life. "

Dramatic and Over the Top? Maybe. But it worked.

These people didn't need to learn advanced sales techniques. They were not in need of better communication skills. What they needed was motivation. A drive to do what they need to. A reason to go beyond the comfort zone. Motivation to change and break from the "status quo".

Ask yourself this: Is there something in my life I'd like to change? Something I can do better? An area where I'm not living up to my potential, not giving it my all? I asked myself this question, and answered it with a big ass "Heck yeah!" Maybe your answer is yes as well?

Another question to ask yourself: Do I really want to change? Do I want it bad enough?

If you want it bad enough, if you want success... You need to be motivated and stay motivated.

So, What's Your Motivation?

Think about it everyday. Write it down. Keep your Motivation wrapped around you like a security blanket. And then, as Nike said it so simply, "Just Do It".

This Is Gonna Hurt Like Hell

"Hold On, Hold On To Yourself, For This Is Gonna Hurt Like Hell."

I'm sitting here with a lump in my throat. Tears are welling up in my eyes and it's a bit difficult to see the keyboard as I write. Should I just open the flood gate and let the tears come flowing out? The pain I am feeling for my friend is immense. The anger I feel about her situation is even more intense than the pain. What she has to do will be so hard. So many tears and so much heartache lies ahead for her. I hang up the phone with her. I have been successful in holding back my tears while we were on the phone. I can't do it anymore. My heart is breaking for her, and my tears fall freely now. All that keeps going through my mind is "Hold On, Hold On To Yourself, For This Is Gonna Hurt Like Hell."

I don't think she even knows how bad it's going to get. The gut wrenching pain, that doing the thing that has to be done, will cause her. She is so much more than my friend. She is my sister. We grew up together. We laughed. We cried. We were always honest with one another, when we needed to be. Yet, we knew when it was better to tell a little white lie, just to save the other from hurt feelings. I hate that I can't lie to her now. This is too big. When she asks for my opinion, I have told her the truth. She may agree or disagree, but it is the truth as I see it. I believe she too sees it as the truth, but cannot wholly embrace the truth, as it is too painful to believe. I have held in much of the anger and frustration I feel, because I understand why she can't see things as they are. She still loves him. She is caught in this middle place of indecision. She doesn't want to divorce him. She doesn't want to live with him. I am afraid for her now, as she is being forced into making a decision. Two choices, neither of which she wants to make. Neither of which will be easy.

I want to scream at him and beat on his chest. I want to yell at that Mother Fucker and tell him to go away, to let her be, let her heal. He refuses to be the man she married. He refuses to be what she needs him to be. He won't even "half-ass" it anymore, and be the husband he use to be. He refuses to be the kind of father she wants for her children. He won't make the decision to leave her, because he is too selfish. She doesn't want to make the decision to leave him, because she is too selfless. He has manipulated her for far too long.

In the end, she will make the decision that is best for her and the kids. She may not make that decision today, but eventually she will. She'll doubt herself at times, not sure if she did the right thing. When she does, I'll be right here, telling her to believe in herself and reassuring her that she has indeed made the right decision. I'll never lie to her, not about this. Not about him, and not about the pain that is to come. I will tell her, as Sarah McLachlan sings in her song titled Hold On, "Hold On, Hold On To Yourself, For This Is Gonna Hurt Like Hell."

To my friend - You know who you are. Please know that I love you and will never leave you. I'll always support and encourage you, no matter what decisions you make. I will look at things from your point of view, to the best of my ability. If I don't agree with you, I'll still love you and support you. You can tell me anything, and I won't judge you. I love you.

The music moved me...

So, I just recently started this whole "working out" thing. I have been on the treadmill almost every day for the last seven days. This is truly an amazing accomplishment for me! I don't think I have exercised (purposely) for more than two days in a row. Not in my entire life! The really crazy thing about this? The only reason I have finally been able to do it?

This is how it all went down:
I'm in a bad mood (I know, shocker right?). And It's not just a bad mood, it's like an angry and mad type of bad mood. I happen to be home alone on this particular evening, although I don't remember why. So, I'm pissed off, and not one damn family member is here for me to bitch at! It's not like I can even do anything productive in this state of mind! I am way too irritated to concentrate on important things, such as improving my latest bejeweled score, and way to pissy to be social and write "fun and flowery" quotes or comments on facebook. I decide to pick up the crap my kids have, once again, hauled down from the playroom into the kitchen. I head up to the playroom with an armload of toys when "What to my wondering eyes should appear, but a pile of dog shit and piss everywhere!" I dropped the toys on the couch and ran back downstairs, for fear of losing my supper. Ready to beat my two dogs senseless, (thank God they were outside and therefore could not be murdered in my heat of passion) I grab paper towels, rags, a trash bag and a bucket of bleach water. On my way back to the stairs, I see my ipod lying on the counter. I think to myself, "Hum, might as well listen to music while scrubbing the floor. Anything to make cleaning up dog shit a bit more pleasant." I grab the ipod, and along with all my other supplies, head back up to the playroom.

Finally, I am ready to commence scrubbing the floor with bleach water. I have picked up the poop and pee, and cannot wait to disinfect! (I know, how many time must I mention the dog shit in this blog?! I can't help it! I was freaking traumatized! I cannot stop myself). Anyway, this is when I put on my ipod. It's on shuffle, and the first few songs are okay. Ho hum, cleaning the floor, hate my life, gonna kill the dogs, what is taking Tom so long to get home, yadda, yadda, yadda...

Then I hear " Wake up in the morning feeling like P-Diddy"
I crank up the music...
"Grab my glasses, I'm out the door, I'm gonna hit the city"
take me, take me with you...
"Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack, cause when I leave for the night I ain't coming back."
Oh, I remember those days...

I feel my pace quicken. Scrubbing the floor faster, keeping beat with the music. Then I'm "dancing" with my hands. Making patterns on the floor as I see them in my head. I'm not even scrubbing the floor, not really... I mean, I am, but I'm not paying attention to what I'm doing. It's almost like I'm hypnotized. My sub-conscious is busy with the floors, but I am totally in another world. I'm on a dance floor. I'm young and thin. I'm back in college, the days when I could be as arrogant and care free as Ke$ha.

"Tik Tok on the clock, but the party don't stop."
I remember back in the day...

How I loved to dance! More than once, I was the first one out on the dance floor. If I was partial to the song, there was NO stopping me! I would beg my girlfriends to join me, but even if they resisted, I never cared about looking like a fool, I danced. I enjoyed the music, even when alone on the dance floor. So many friends (and boyfriends) of mine had to be fairly tipsy before they acquired the courage to come join me. Actually, I got hit on, many a time, by guys who started the conversation with "So, I noticed you out on the dance floor earlier"...

Suddenly, I am reminded of the freshman 15. Those infamous fifteen pounds (or more) college freshman girls are known to put on. Moms and Dads like to think it's because their little girls aren't eating the balanced meals they use to be provided at home. We all know, in truth, your precious baby girls are packing on the pounds drinking beer! Ha ha ha ha! So, why is it, I didn't gain the freshman 15?! Seriously?! Hello! I freaking danced my ass off. Literally. I danced and danced all night long! Every calorie of beer was balanced with LOTS of dancing!

Then it dawns on me. I didn't gain this weight because I got married, had kids and got comfortable with the life I live... I gained weight because I quit dancing and never replaced that Physical Activity with anything other than breast feeding for a few months, making meals and "running errands" in the car!

If music can make me forget I'm scrubbing floors...
If music can make me feel young and thin and alive again...
I wonder what would happen if I marched my happy, fat ass down to the treadmill and walked to the beat of the music?

So, I tried it. The result?! 6 of 7 days this week I was on the treadmill, and I'm loving life and feeling alive!

Never, ever under estimate the power of music to move your Fat Ass! :-)

A Letter to my Little Brother

Dear Jeremy,
It's your birthday today! Happy Happy Joy Joy! Since it's your birthday, your on my mind, so I've decided to write you a letter. Wow, where do I start? Okay, so I said Happy Birthday. What's next? I guess I'll just start typing what goes through my mind when I think of you. First and foremost the two things that come to mind are: #1 I'm so thankful to have you, and #2 Your sense of humor is amazing!

As I write this letter, I am truly thinking about how thankful and relieved I am, that you are here, alive and healthy. I think of Kim, who lost Kent in a car accident 18 years ago this month. It is only now, as we are both grown with children of our own, that I can even begin to understand what Kim has lost. All the good times and laughter, that could have been for her and Kent, is what you and I have now. I am so thankful for the fun and laughter you bring to my life!

Humor. This is one of my favorite aspects of your personality. You truly make me laugh until I cry. I love hanging out with you because you can turn anything into something hilarious. I could be totally pissed about something, and you make some smart ass comment about the situation that makes me laugh, and then I realize I'm being petty. Two of your recent quotes that make me laugh out loud:
#1 - Julie said "Jeremy you crack me up!" Jeremy said "Yeah, fat people are funnier."
#2 - Julie said "Oh my gosh, it's 11:00! I have to let you go, I HAVE to get in the shower and get ready before Noon, or else I feel like a total loser." Jeremy said "Yeah Julie, because getting showered and ready at 11:00 equals TOTAL WINNER right!?"

You have made some awesome decisions in your life. You have great friends, a wonderful wife, a beautiful baby girl, a good job doing what you enjoy, and a college education from Kansas State University. I'm proud of you little brother! Happy Birthday.
Love you,
Julie

We Women Need Our Girlfriends!

Love, Love, Love that I am a woman with girlfriends! Women have girlfriends for everything! We even tend to have groups, clubs, "clicks," of girlfriends for different things. For example... I have scrapbooking girlfriends, bunco girlfriends, work girlfriends and church girlfriends. I have girlfriends who inspire me lose weight and work out. I have Beta Sigma Phi girlfriends, Facebook girlfriends and Chingawassa girlfriends (ha ha, don't ask what Chingawassa is). I have girlfriends from high school, college and Alpha Xi Delta sorority. There are mothers of kids in my child's class girlfriends, family members who are also girlfriends, girlfriends of other girlfriends, more recent best friend girlfriends and of course the "Old School" Best Friends Forever girlfriends.

Many of these girlfriends overlap into more than one group, or "click" of friends. Some of my girlfriends I only know, and associate with, one certain area of my life. I have noticed that girlfriends weave in and out of my life. As I need them, as they need me, we grow closer at times and further apart at other times.

With these girlfriends, I have had really good, thoughtful and meaningful conversations. On occasion there have been tears. Sometimes I am the listener, sometimes I am the speaker.

With these girlfriends, I have also laughed so hard I peed my pants. You know the kind of laughter I'm talking about right? I'm talking about the laughter, where you literally fold over and grab your stomach, fall out of your chair, pull over if your driving, can't even breathe and tears are pouring out of your eyeballs kind of laughter. I'm talking about laughing so hard you can't control yourself. You snort or fart or emit some other vile, manly sound from your body. Your friend hears this, so the laughing is even harder, and your stomach hurts and you just want to stop and breathe, but you can't, because it's just so flipping funny!

My girlfriend Suzanne, ("Old School" Best Friend Forever girlfriend) called me this morning for our morning chat. She calls just about every morning between 8:30 and 9:00. Sometimes a bit earlier, sometimes a bit later, but always in the morning. We both grab a cup of coffee and a cigarette and we talk. Depending on the day (chaos, kids, husbands, work) we talk for 5 minutes up to even 30 or 40 minutes. She is almost always the one who calls me, and I love her for that. This mornings chat was usual. Nothing significant or out of the ordinary. Just a quick chat with a long time friend. It's a great way to start the day.

After we hang up the phone, I'm going about getting ready for my day. I get on the scale and see I have lost 3 pounds total this week! I'm thrilled! My first thought is "I can't wait to go email blank and blank (my two "Weight Loss" girlfriends) and blank (my "Work Out" girlfriend) to share with them my success!" As I'm skipping to my laptop, ready to email these girlfriends my dieting progress, it occurs to me how lucky I am to have so many girlfriends, involved in different areas of my life.

We women, complex and emotional beings that we are, need many girlfriends for the different aspects of our lives. Every woman has traits, qualities, life experiences, that no one else has. In order to achieve the most inspiration, to be the most well-rounded, successful and happy that we can possibly be... We women need our girlfriends.